


It's a cycle

by kurojiri



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Families of Choice, Family Feels, Gen, Introspection, Wayne Manor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22064983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurojiri/pseuds/kurojiri
Summary: The freshly cut flowers from the garden were placed into a vase was all Jason needed to know that few things could only do so much to brighten the world, let alone the occupants of Wayne Manor. But Alfred at least had been trying his best.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd
Kudos: 11
Collections: Batfam Bingo 2019





	It's a cycle

**Author's Note:**

> I have always wanted to write about the batfam, and while I am sad that I didn't get to write more than I first intended, I am still happy that I managed at least one square fill.

Obviously, Jason had to wonder if spring would ever truly thaw the coldness that the manor held; a few years from living inside it, made all the walls soak up any sunlight that dared to penetrate it. But none of their attempts could shed off any of the redments of the coldness that stayed consistent for the occupants living inside it. 

It had been a detail that he noticed. No matter how hard Alfred did something to push back it, the manor's ghost were stronger. Resting peacefully, like graveyards were known for. The Wayne Manor was in many ways a trip where memories loved to haunt any person that came inside. Bruce had been a man that lived in the past just as much as he did in the future. Always walking with a tempo that shadows used in templates that took Jason a few weeks into training to mimic when he first started out as Robin. 

He had been cautious about it. Humming when he could while designing himself into a corner where he could watch it all unfold. Funny how living in the streets of Gotham had been kind in that regard when he wanted to know how becoming a ward of Bruce and then taking the mantle of Robin did to a person. Grayson had been the first experiment. While Jason? He became a tradition for the future.

Back then, he had not known of the repercussions of his actions nor of Grayson’s.

All he knew was that Alfred did his best to cheer up the manor. He cleaned it, polished it and filled it with cheerful colors like the flowers from the gardens when Bruce allowed it. Not that it had cured anyone about the dreary atmosphere the manor had. Gotham wasn’t known for that kind of happy vibes for long, there would always be something cracked, a foundation would crumple like when a mirror shattered.

The pieces would scatter onto the floor and the reflection would just showcase how nothing had been okay in the first place as glass has always been a fragile material. The sharp edges too would cut any flesh or other material that it would touch. And Jason could understand that. Could sympathize with how the world worked to some extent. However, that did not mean that he would remain passive with the notion. He hadn’t been raised to live like that.

Alfred had been a smart guy to realize that when he stalked the hallways and sometimes used his afternoons after training to spend time with him. He would help too when Alfred would pass him a duster or a rag. The manor’s walls would be suffocating but, when he had company...when Jason knew that Alfred was there he could catch his breath.

When he accepted his fate as Robin and the second ward of Bruce Wayne, Jason had to some extent known that the path he chose wouldn’t ever give him easy choices.

And when the poison finally touched his limbs, and when he could sense them working against him, he recalled the flowers Alfred would cut from the garden. Simple roses, freesias, solidagos and any other that had been freely growing in multiples. It had been a strange occurrence, of being enthralled with a garden he never actively wandered into but had appreciated anyways when his thoughts darken. As if, those flowers had tried to lag the extension of what the manor did to a person.

(Of what it did when their names were attached to the tragedy of Bruce Wanye and Batman.)

He would always be grateful though, that they had Alfred there. Because he didn’t know if they could have survived at all without his wit, sensibilities and heart. After all, the Wanye manor had been dreary enough without his influence.


End file.
